


DribDrab April: Drabble Challenge

by TheGreatLibraryFangirl (Mazeem)



Category: The Great Library Series - Rachel Caine
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - College/University, Anal Fisting, Angst, Bad Flirting, Blood and Injury, Dads Being Lazy, Dario Is A Size Queen, Dario Is Insecure, Double Drabble, Drabble Collection, Drunkenness, Everyone Sluts Around, Fluff, Found Family, Friendship, Gap in Canon - Smoke and Iron, Genital Injury, Glain is very proud of herself, Grief/Mourning, Implied Sex Dungeon, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Intoxication, Khalila's burnt hand headcanon, Light Pollution, Medical Procedures, Mentor Wolfe, Modern Era, Morgan Lives, Multi, Muslim Character, Next Generation, No-one Can Cook, Oh dear Dario, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, Police state, Punching, Rome Aftermath, Seifs Get Arrested, Sounding, Surveillance, Thomas Is Bored, Unrequited Lust, VERY BAD SOUNDING, Very brief allusion to canon arrest and imprisonment, Wolfe has Family Issues, Wolfe: Having Free Time Is Hedonistic, glain's emotional support gun hoard, mention of canon character deaths, mentions masturbation, ok it's not a gun kink as such, well next-next actually
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:54:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 30
Words: 5,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23425834
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mazeem/pseuds/TheGreatLibraryFangirl
Summary: At least one drabble every day in April. Prompt list can be found in the challenge collection.Content warnings can be found at the top of each chapter, please read!1. Book (Jess)2. Travel (Wolfe/Santi)3. Wolfe's Hair (Wolfe x2)4. High Garda Barracks (Khalila, canon gap)5. Cooking (Glain)6. Silver 2x (Dario, Dario+Wolfe)7. Library Cuffs (Seifs arrested, canon gap)8. Khalila's Notes (Khalila)9. Printing (Thomas)10. Dario's Wardrobe (Dario)11. Ice Cold Drink (Glain)12. A Hug (Khalila/Dario, canon gap)13. A Codex (Dario, canon gap)14. Ptolemy House (Dario's sister)15. Nic's Tattoo (Santi)16. The Archives (1000 words, next-next-gen)17. Thomas' Fists (Thomas+Glain)18. Money (Khalila)19. Stars 2x (Glain+Jess, Khalila/Dario)20. Morgan's Hands (College AU, Khalila's POV)21. The Hive (Wolfe/Santi)22. Quill Pen (About Dario)23. Medicine (Dario+Glain)24. Jess' Tie (Jess+Glain)25. Sleep (Eskander)26. Automata (Khalila)27. Language (many)28. Glain's Weapon29. Scholar's Robe (Thomas, Dario)30. Game (Khalila/Dario)
Relationships: Dario Santiago/Khalila Seif, Jess Brightwell & Glain Wathen, Niccolo Santi/Christopher Wolfe
Comments: 115
Kudos: 14
Collections: Dribble Drabble April (A Great Library Event)





	1. Book - Jess Brightwell

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by many things, of course, all obvious, but Brendan's words are a quote from Ink and Bone, chapter one:
> 
> "I knew I'd find you here," he said. "You need some new hiding holes, Jess. No telling when Da will sniff you out of this one. What are you buried in this time?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: child abuse, PTSD, grief/mourning of girlfriend and brother
> 
> Inspired by many things, of course, all obvious, but Brendan's words are a quote from Ink and Bone, chapter one:
> 
> "I knew I'd find you here," he said. "You need some new hiding holes, Jess. No telling when Da will sniff you out of this one. What are you buried in this time?"

“Originals are full of history,” proclaim the detractors of printed books.

When Jess opens one to read for pleasure, that distinctive scent of handmade ink and old parchment catches in his throat like smoke.

(The Black Archives. Philadelphia's journals. The Great Archives.)

(Morgan.)

When he forces himself to keep turning pages, he discovers he’s more comfortable crouched in the wardrobe. Hidden.

'Da won’t find you here,' his instincts announce proudly.

Fuck that.

_A ghostly slap. “What are you buried in this time?” asks his brother._

Brendan always found me.

His eyes stream. It’s the coughing.

 _Originals are full of history_.


	2. Travel - Wolfe/Santi

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: None identified.
> 
> Fully inspired by this quote from Sword and Pen:
> 
> ''Could have so easily been him, and he suddenly wished for peace, for the days and nights he’d spent traveling with Nic on the way to some dire crisis or other—days they spent talking, or not talking, making love or just lying together, reading. Playing a nightly game of chess, or Egyptian sennet, or the board games of ancient Ur. Something with history and meaning. 
> 
> He’d underestimated how much peace meant to him.''

Wolfe had never allowed himself to experience peace. There was always something worthwhile to be done instead of lazing around.

Nic was no better. He was just more affable about rejecting invitations.

They’d stolen their peace before, guiltily indolent during transportation, glutting themselves on each other and wasting those scraps of time with books and board games.

Things were different now.

(Yes, now they had interfering, spendthrift children.)

He might catch up with his reading, at this rate. Nic might even achieve vague proficiency at mah-jong.

The Orient Express rumbled onwards underneath them in this indulgent, luxurious, wonderfully pointless journey.


	3. Wolfe's Hair

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warning for first drabble: childhood trauma, absent father, mention of intoxication, voluntarily shaved hair
> 
> Content warning for second drabble: Expansion of canon torture, torture aftermath, forcibly shaved hair

_“You have your father’s hair, Christopher.”_

Only six years old then, yet he remembered his mother’s words distinctly.

He’d reacted in different ways as he aged.

Shaved it all off at the orphanage.

Flat-ironed it when he became a Scholar.

Dyed away the grey when it first appeared after his imprisonment, though he quickly grew tired of that.

Stared at himself drunkenly in the mirror, oh, too often.

Stood panting in the Colosseum, vibrating with adrenaline. Saw long silver waves flowing down the back of an Obscurist robe.

Stepped forwards, dizzy with déjà vu.

“That’s-“

“I know who that is.”

* * *

In Nic’s dreams, Chris would look as he had in war-zones – dirty, bloodied, exhausted, hair hopelessly tangled. Eyes still blazing.

In his dreams, Nic carefully untangled that hair as if it were a metaphor for Chris’ pain, and listened to his stubborn love insist he was fine.

But this wasn’t a dream.

The figure huddled on Nic’s doorstep was so filthy with ground-in dirt that the whites of their eyes seemed blinding. They didn’t speak, only grunted softly as Nic stared.

Their scalp was bald. Bruised.

“Your hair,” Nic mumbled, idiotically, as he crouched down. “But you love your hair.”


	4. High Garda Barracks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: mention of canon burn injuries, feeling overwhelmed
> 
> A tiny fill in a huge gap in canon.

Khalila wasn’t a soldier, not like Glain, nor could she have bent herself into that mould to serve an outside purpose like Jess had managed.

Once she would never have dreamt that the sight of the High Garda compound could fill her with such relief that it almost overwhelmed the Translation after-effects and the terrible burning in her hands. 

“Where did you all come from?” Troll yelped.

She giggled, to see the muscular young man staring so slack-jawed, and then had to bury her head in Dario’s shoulder to stop that turning hysterical. 

“Cadiz,” Santi said coolly. “Now, listen closely …”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ... high garda barracks, high garda compound ... same thing, right?? *shuffles away whistling*


	5. Cooking - Glain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: cooking, food, brief mention of disordered eating pattern

Glain regularly despaired of her friends. Food provided new avenues. 

Khalila and Dario survived entirely on Library room service and occasional high-security café trips. Not unexpected; Dario's upbringing hadn't included that kind of fending for himself, and Khalila had made her distaste for cooking well-known. 

Meanwhile Jess and Thomas wasted their money on street food and deliveries. She knew Thomas would ignore bodily needs for the calling of the workshop, but Jess surprised her. 

She cornered him one day and asked him over a drink. 

Jess looked at her. 'Sometimes it's nice to take the easy route for a change.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: my actual headcanon is that Jess also can't cook because he didn't live in a household where he was expected to learn. But I do also love the idea of Jess finally finding 1 (one) area of life in which it is acceptable to just Not Try So Hard.


	6. Silver - An entry into the personal journal of Scholar Dario Santiago

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings for first drabble: brief mention of early unhealthy relationship view from Dario
> 
> Content warnings for second drabble (double-drabble): alcohol, intoxication

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two different looks at Dario's conflicted emotions about his silver/gold band situation. 
> 
> Relevant book quote here:
> 
> "You are an ambitious young man. If I have any advice for your future, it is to curb that ambition before it poisons you. I debated this. You have flaws. But your performance in Oxford, and beyond, convinced me that you can learn to be a better man."
> 
> Ink and Bone, chapter 16.

Once upon a time, I believed that a Library gold band was … 

Oh God, old journal entries are so embarrassing.

To summarise, I believed that I was ‘destined’ for such an honour purely due to the strength of my desire. 

Upon consideration, this parallels my early approaches to Khalila. 

How fitting. 

The gold band around my finger. The gold band upon my wrist. 

People gossip that I deserve neither. 

What measure of suffering would they deem acceptable? I am not Wolfe, nor Thomas, nor Jess. 

Regardless, I am _worthy_ of neither, certainly. 

But worth may be gained, day by day.

* * *

Wolfe cut off Dario’s self-pity with a heavy sigh. 

“How do you think I earned my gold band?”

Dario blinked. Had he drunk more than he’d thought?

“Earned? Weren’t you … given it? Like Khalila?”

Wolfe scoffed. “The Archivist at the time didn’t believe in ‘giving’ a gold.” He sipped his wine. “No, I walked away from postulancy with a perfectly impressive twenty-year silver offer.”

_Twenty years!_

“So … how did you?”

Wolfe fixed him with a glare. “I went on a ridiculously dangerous mission.”

Dario nodded. “Like us, rescuing Thomas.”

Wolfe scowled. “No. Mine was not prompted by high ideals; by loyalty or the desire to change a rotten system. Mine was prompted by ambition and arrogance.”

“ _Curb that ambition_ ,” Wolfe had said, aeons ago, “ _before it poisons you_.”

Dario licked his lips. “So, what? You’re saying I earned mine?”

_In blood._

Wolfe rolled his eyes. “I was your teacher, wasn’t I? I was _there,_ wasn’t I?” Too many memories in one word, and for a moment they sat in drunken silence. “Have I ever told you to take it off?”

“No.”

“Well, then. What do you need, an official presentation?” His dark eyes were gentle.

Dario laughed instead of replying.


	7. Library Cuffs - Saleh Seif

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: arrest, violence, handcuffs, involuntary restraints, concern over family members
> 
> Filling a gap in canon

“What are you doing? Leave him alone! He’s not well!”

“Be quiet,” his father ordered. He stood still, chin high, eyes calm.

Saleh Seif glared furiously as he acquiesced to the tight snap of the thin gold Obscurist-spelled rope.

Library restraints on their wrists. Library soldiers crowding into their home.

Library crimes thrown at them as the explanation.

_Treason._

Absurd!

He might have tried to fight them, if his father hadn’t been there, if he didn’t know these restraints would allow the High Garda to track him. 

When he was pushed into a carriage, his heart sank. Uncle Nasif, too?


	8. Khalila's Notes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: expansion of canon burn injuries, scars, chronic pain, allusion to past arguments with spouse

Khalila's hands have never really recovered from their two Greek Fire burns within a month; the skin is dry and scarred, especially around her left thumb. 

After a long day of taking notes in meetings, her hand throbs and burns. 

Dario, knowing better than to start this fight yet again, just gives her a reproachful look from where he kneels, rubbing cream into the offending areas. It's not that painful, but he does insist. 

She should consider a note taker, but she likes taking notes! Likes doodling and annotating, and writing mischievous things in her personal shorthand. 

It's not _that_ bad. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> JFC why was this so hard to come up with
> 
> Thank you Rosalind for the final spark of inspiration.


	9. Printing - Thomas

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: frustration, brief mention of Thomas' canon imprisonment

Thomas was fed up with working on the printing press. Tweaking this, improving that. 

He was an _inventor_. Ideas rotated invitingly through his head every day, but they merely decorated his notebook pages and waited.

He'd never meant to remake the world. Not Thomas Schreiber personally.

He was so glad that he had, but he felt stifled now. 

He wasn't sure how to announce it. (To anyone, but to Jess most of all.) 

People would think it was connected to his past treatment. Was it a good or a bad sign of his recovery? 

Neither, _verdammt_! He was just bored!


	10. Dario's Wardrobe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: grief, intoxication, deliberately irresponsible drinking, rejecting comfort from spouse

As a child, Dario had hidden in his wardrobe when he got upset. 

It had been a great sumptuous space full of handsome garments. Corners to hide in, and soft materials to bury into. 

This wardrobe was nearly as good, in their high-security penthouse. 

Some elements were even better. He had Khalila's perfume-scented dresses to bury his tears in. He had the numbing touch of alcohol smoothing down his mind's edges.

His Codex buzzed again. Khalila's handwriting. 

_She wouldn't want you to feel like this!!_

_She wouldn't want to be dead_, he scrawled, and gulped down more tasteless fine wine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Left my usual home of kinky Dario for my second home of ANGSTY Dario instead.
> 
> Thanks to Rosalind for getting me out of the perfectionism pit.


	11. Ice Cold Drink

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: alcohol, social drinking, gambling

Glain took another sip. She didn't like the wine much, but it had been Dario's up until their last game, so she was going to pretend to savour it. 

Everyone was here, even Khalila. 

Glain nodded at Jess as he finally came back from the bar. 

''I didn't ask for anything,'' she protested. ''Still got my winnings.'' She smirked at Dario and he made a rude gesture. 

''I know what you like.'' Jess put her favourite cider down in front of her. 

She pressed her fingers into the cold condensation on the bottle and looked at her friends. 

Yes. This. 


	12. A Hug

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: hugs, desire for physical contact

It’s a _hug_ , Khalila fumes, as the steamship plows the waves between American horror and the English unknown. It should be _easy_. 

She can hug any of the others with ease. Even Glain, should she ever permit it. 

Dario hugs her all the time. And more. If this were a matter for clashes of culture and upbringing, surely she would be unable to accept his touches?

But no. Only when she goes to hug him does her skin prickle and burn. It’s if she’s afraid he might push her away. 

_Astagfirullah,_ she does not want Dario to push her away. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am a cheat in terms of word count. The Arabic Khalila uses here is اَسْتَغْفِرُ اللّٰہ which according to google translates as 'I seek forgiveness from Allah'. It transliterates as astaḡfiru llāha, which is two words, but I generally found it romanised in the one-word form that I used here. 
> 
> According to my googling, it's formally used as a prayer for forgiveness for a sin, and informally used to admit shame/to calm yourself from negative feelings. 
> 
> This is one of my several fic attempts, with no doubt more to come, to reconcile the canon fact that Khalila doles out affection to everyone right left and centre, but almost never to Dario. It's almost always the other way. 
> 
> (I have a very definite interpretation of what Khalila's problem is here, but I won't impose it!)


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: blackmail, theft, damaged book

Within the first week, Dario had combed through everybody's rooms, looking for tasty titbits to use against his competition. 

Now, the competition had struck him instead. 

_Lowlife thieves_. 

How had they known? Had he treated it too carefully? Or had they simply coveted the precious stones embedded in its cover and thought to hurt his pocket?

So he searched.

It got easier as the rooms emptied; he could ransack to his heart’s content. 

He found it eventually, stained and trampled, and quietly paid for its restoration.

It wasn’t exactly the same. But he grew to treasure that about it, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relevant book quotes: 
> 
> from chapter 2 of Ink and Bone:
> 
> Dario sat silently for a moment, then took in an audible breath and said, "It's just a Codex. I'll get another, as you said." But there was something broken in his gaze. "Leave me alone, scrubber."
> 
> from chapter 9 of Sword and Pen:
> 
> He put aside his fancy jewelled Codex with regret. He'd grown up with it and it was precious to him ... but not as precious as his life.


	14. Ptolemy House

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: positive sibling interaction, overprotective big brother

Dario passes his sister an Alexandrian coffee as she sits down opposite him.

“Get used to that,” he advises. “You’ll need it.”

Maria Isobel Jimena Theodora Zuniga y Santiago downs the contents of the tiny glass and scowls. “It’s fine.”

“So are you all settled in?” Dario asks airily, like he hasn’t been harassing the entire postulancy committee for the past two weeks.

“Yes.” She rolls her eyes. “I thought Ptolemy House would be a complete mess, the way you described it initially.”

Dario frowns. He has been nothing but enthusias – oh. _Initially_ initially.

Well.

“ _I_ was the mess, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me @ me: yes i will waste like seven words on inventing a full noble-esque Spanish name for Dario's sister, fuck you. 
> 
> I headcanon there's a decent gap of five or so years between the siblings, but I left it open-ended.
> 
> 100% inspired by Rosalind's drabble for today, where Dario writes to his sister. Go read that too.


	15. Nic's Tattoo

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: tattoo, brief mention of Wolfe disappearing as per canon

Private Santi loved his tattoo. He’d slapped down his first wages and blurted, “A Blue Lion!” after his new squad. His symbol of belonging.

Captain Santi loved his tattoo as he climbed the ranks and escorted countless Scholars and originals to safety. His symbol of guardianship.

Then Chris was taken and everything went to shit.

Nic hated every order he followed, every automaton he passed. Blue eyes watched him in the mirror. His symbol of corruption.

Lord Commander Santi grew to love his tattoo again, as he watched his children and his lover remake the Library. His symbol of family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sat down to this prompt, like, what the FUCK do I write?
> 
> But actually, I really like this. Wordcount fought me, but that's fun.


	16. The Archives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Morgan Hault  
> b. 2015 – d. 2032  
> Gave her life for the Library.  
> Omnia Tibi Dēbēmus. We owe you everything.
> 
> “Thank you, Morgan,” Asma Seif-Santiago muttered to the plaque. Her friends all mocked her for that, but it was how she’d been brought up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: familial grief, positive family interaction, perceived danger to a book  
> Content warnings for my notes: mention of dementia, uncertain character gender/sexuality
> 
> If this is exactly 1000 words it still counts right????
> 
> Relevant book quote:
> 
> Morgan: "I think we all have to agree that the Great Archives is our most fragile resource. Having those manuscripts as the source of all our knowledge makes us dangerously exposed. It always has, but especially now."
> 
> "I agree," Khalila said. "And I intend to authorise the Artifex Magnus to incorporate Thomas's marvelous print machine into the Great Library's plans, but that will take time."

Newly-qualified silver band Lingua Scholar Asma Seif Santiago searched the Codex for the nearest available copy of the book she needed to support her third-ever paper. 

> _The Hault Archives._

She rolled her eyes. Of course. Distribution was supposed to be random, these days, but somehow the books which were stuck in the queue for a full print run always ended up in Alexandria.

She could put in a tag request, if the backlog wasn’t too bad, but instead she sighed and wrote a holiday request to her supervisor.

As her parents kept reminding her, it was past time she visited family anyway.

* * *

 _Why aren’t you Translating?_ her friend Tam demanded, as Asma settled into her comfortable seat. _Helsinki to Alexandria? By train? Are you mad?_

 _It’s only twelve hours_ , she wrote back. She hated Translation. It destroyed her sleep pattern and always gave her a niggling feeling that she’d left something behind.

 _Oh yeah. I forgot. Not all of us have access to the lightning trains_.

Asma tapped her stylus against the message page. She wanted to defend that. There were nearly one hundred of these trains now. Every Library-affiliated country had at least one, with more on the way. But she couldn’t remember if the ‘more on the way’ bit qualified as information that she wasn’t supposed to know.

Family was complicated sometimes.

Anyway. She knew she couldn’t argue about her own privilege.

 _You know you can always borrow my pass_ , she wrote, as a peace offering.

 _Sloppy seconds_ , Tam replied, then launched into a familiar rant about his truly shitty Artifex placement in the English city of Leeds.

* * *

Several naps and not enough of Asma’s intended studying later, the train pulled into Misr station. The electrical trains always sat on the third-storey platforms, level with the beak of the great Horus statue. The climb from ground level was gradual, but Asma still felt queasy every time.

She swung her bag over her shoulder and pressed her band against the door to slide it open. The shocking dry heat of an Alexandrian late summer day rolled over her.

The little-used platform wasn’t empty.

“ _Tata_!” she blurted in astonishment and bolted to hug the black-robed figure who was waiting for her.

Senior Liberius Scholar Rahima Qistina Seif Santiago smiled up at her. Asma hadn’t inherited Grandma’s short stature.

“You’ve still got drool on your cheek, dumpling.”

Asma groaned. Embarrassment within ten seconds of stepping foot on Alexandrian soil. Possibly a new record.

They walked arm in arm to the waiting carriage.

“Straight to the Archives?”

Tata still said it like that, as if there was only one. Silly, when Tata had grown up with the Murasaki and Prakesh Archives already well-established. All part of that Alexandria bias, Asma supposed.

* * *

The front of the Hault Archives was busy as ever, with librarians checking orders and loading books into carefully-scripted Obscurist machines which tagged them for Translation to the required Serapeums without draining the person who pressed the button.

As part of her postulancy training, Asma had performed an old-fashioned tagging. She’d managed two books and then thrown up on her own feet.

“Don’t worry,” Grandma had said reassuringly when Asma admitted it. “I was no better.”

Asma presented her band and while she was waiting for the manual approval of her identity, she automatically read the embossed plaque situated just in front of her.

> Morgan Hault
> 
> b. 2015 – d. 2032
> 
> Gave her life for the Library.
> 
> _Omnia Tibi Dēbēmus_. We owe you everything.

“Thank you, Morgan,” she muttered. Her friends all mocked her for that, but it was how she’d been brought up.

“Through you go, Scholar.” The elderly silver band Obscurist who had checked the validity of her band waved her through with a smile.

Asma walked into the cool, dim, dry archives and checked the notation on her Codex.

These were the largest archives in the entire worldwide Library, and it took her a couple of minutes to reach the correct spot, right at the back of the _Scientia_ wing.

She put it into her book-bag, and then automatically relaxed into browsing the shelves.

One book spine looked older than usual, and Asma opened it to the very first page, expecting to be amused at when it was last thought useful by a Scholar. Ten years ago? Tam had the record so far at thirty-five years ago.

But the first page wasn’t a clipped-in archival checking-in slip.

It was a dedication page, hand-inked in gold.

> A gift from Morgan Hault to you. _Omnia Tibi Dēbēmus._

Asma nearly dropped it, except then she might have needed to throw herself in the Nile out of familial shame.

A _first-run_ Brightwell print. At coming-up-to-60-years-old, there were hundreds of thousands of books older than this, but few which were rarer.

She memorised the title and walked quickly back to the start of the wing, where the Codex for that section sat. She searched for the title, and caught her breath.

Only available on a mirrored Blank. That very first line of defence.

No other physical copies, not anywhere in the whole world.

This shouldn’t be lying around like this. It needed to be reprinted. Made safe.

The librarians would surely think she was an interfering little girl for pointing that out. She quailed at the thought of their stares.

“ _An original alone is an original at risk,”_ she muttered to herself in Arabic, to strengthen her resolve. Grandma’s sayings tended to do that.

She retreated back to the shelf and took the book down again, staring at the messy signature on the inside cover.

That handwriting was on the inside of her handmade Codex, presented to her on her eleventh birthday when she’d finished every acceptable book in the house.

> Happy birthday, Azzie! I bet you can’t read everything in here. Lots of love, Uncle Jess.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, grabbed the book and marched back up the rows of cool, still shelves.

To save Uncle Jess, then.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Turns out I have a lot of half-baked headcanons here. Like the fact that Asma calls Rahima the Ancient Greek for Dad (Tata). Why? Both parents women? Rahima not a woman? HAVEN'T DECIDED.
> 
> I decided not to bring Khalila directly into this (because it would have been angsty, guess I'll save the Khalila-gets-dementia for later...) but I hope you can see what she made of her and Morgan's idea.
> 
> Hope you enjoyed.


	17. Thomas' Fists

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: physical activity, violence, PTSD, recovery, friend attempting to help

“I don’t understand how this will help.” Thomas watched Glain fuss over the heavy punching bag that she had brought to his house. “I don’t like punching. I don’t want to punch things.”

Glain gave the bag a test swing. Thomas flinched at the thud. 

“Technique will help you to trust your body, and get to know it better.” Her voice was steady and non-judgemental, but Thomas still felt himself flushing and tensing. 

He heard the subtle “look after yourself,” message. He’d heard it from _everyone_. 

Glain looked at his clenched fists and shrugged. “Hands up, then. Let’s get started.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a whole longer idea about this. Maybe i'll write it one day. 
> 
> Ha. 
> 
> Until that miraculous day comes, a drabble will do.


	18. Money

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: guilt, corruption, wealth

Going through the accounts of the Library makes Khalila feel physically sick with fury and second-hand shame. 

The whole vast accumulation of wealth is rotten. Every coin, every credit tainted by the lust for power. 

It isn't even merely the flaws of the previous Archivist - of which the horror of France is only the most egregious. She's more than a hundred years back in the records currently and there's no relenting. 

''We are the dragon of fairytales,'' she tells Dario one night, awake and trembling. ''The monster on its hoard.''

Dario kisses her shoulder. ''You killed the dragon, my rose.''


	19. Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings for first drabble: drinking, alcohol, light pollution, friendship 
> 
> Content warnings for second drabble: hunting, falconry, implied public intimacy (probably sex)

''Here.''

Jess accepted the bottle of beer from Glain. It was a cool autumn night and the two of them were relaxing on the hill outside the High Garda compound. 

''I miss the stars,'' Glain said. 

Jess looked up, nonplussed, at the dark sky, studded with hundreds of bright stars.

''Different constellations at home,'' he hazarded. 

She rolled her eyes. ''I forgot you've always been a city boy.'' She sat up and clapped him on the shoulder. ''I'll take you out into the desert sometime, away from the artificial bullshit. Show you the real stars.''

Jess blinked. ''I'd like that.''

* * *

''The stars are beautiful,'' Khalila said with a sigh. She was stretched out on her back next to Dario on the cool sand. They had spent the day hunting with falcons. 

The fresh air and gentle competition had rejuvenated her. The stars were pretty, but he couldn't keep his gaze from the glow in her skin and her eyes. 

''You are,'' he said hoarsely. She looked over at him, smiled, and rolled on top of him in one fluid motion. 

''Starlight suits you, too,'' she whispered.

Her security team was watching. Luckily, Dario had stopped caring about them years ago

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know what, I have done very well, filled prompts with many varied characters and ideas. Time for some gratuitous OTP as well as sensible fill.
> 
> Not that anybody cares, but Dario's falcon is a fancy white imported white gyrfalcon, which historically was for royalty only, and Khalila has a peregrine falcon.


	20. Morgan's Hands (Khalila/Dario/Morgan)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: sexual activity, anal plug, fisting mentioned, size fetish, Morgan Is Alive
> 
> Modern college AU.

“Morgan has just the right size hands for this,” Khalila mused. “Bigger than mine.”

“Thomas’ hands are bigger than yours, too,” Dario piped up hopefully. 

Khalila gave him an exasperated look. “Calm down, darling. Have you finished that Berlin Wall essay yet?” She tapped the plug inside him with her foot and he groaned. 

“Nearly! It’ll take longer if you keep distracting me!”

“We agreed that you worked better with a goal to aim for,” she replied, unrepentant. “I’m just reminding you.”

 _Busy?_ she asked Morgan over WhatsApp.

_Why?_

_Up for that fisting lesson, still? Dario’s been a good boy._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Many thanks to ros for reminding me of this opportunity to indulge Dario.


	21. The Hive

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warning: implied intoxication, setting is a bar, sexualised glances, an erection, kinky setting described as "depraved" in an admiring way

Wolfe sighed as their progress through the crowded bar was halted by someone else hailing Nic.

“You’re too sociable,” he grumbled. Nic laughed. Weaving, he bumped a passer-by.

“Sorry, Captain!”

The captain slowed and eyed Wolfe. “Downstairs tonight, Lieutenant?”

Nic grinned and put his arm around Wolfe. “Is it worth the fee?”

The captain smirked. “If you’re good.”

“What’s downstairs?” Wolfe whispered as they walked away.

Nic grinned, eyes sparkling excited amber. “You hate the Hive. Why are we here, Chris?”

 _Oh_.

Nic had been teasing him for weeks about this members-only space for … enjoyable depravations. 

His cock stiffened embarrassingly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Explanatory note for any readers who haven't been following me on tumblr (or not for that long, to be fair, I probably last reeeaaally talked about this like ten months ago, jesus), yes, I 100% am headcanoning that there is a kink dungeon underneath the soldier bar that we see in Ink and Bone. 
> 
> I will do a longer version of this, probably.
> 
> (note: santi's eyes are described as both brown and green (ish) in the books, that completely means I can use him like a mood ring)
> 
> Often NSFW tumblr is https://thegreatlibraryfangirl.tumblr.com/ please do say hi!!


	22. Quill Pen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: medical jargon, injury to penis, mentions of sexual gratification, mention of alcoholic intoxication, brief bland description of medical treatment. 
> 
> Content warnings for my notes: swearing, caps lock, mention of kink.

**Case study: Self-insertion of foreign body into lower urinary tract**

> 23-year-old Scholar presented to Medica station complaining of dysuria and painful swelling of the penis. Upon examination, a foreign body was detected in the anterior urethra.
> 
> Patient admitted to inserting a stripped quill pen into his urethra while intoxicated. Patient believed “some” of it might have “got lost” during the process of masturbation four hours previously. Self-removal was attempted.
> 
> The foreign object (5cm) was located and simple endoscopic forceps removal was carried out.
> 
> Patient’s motivations fall into known dataset entries of 'autoerotic stimulation' with additional motivation of 'absence of spouse'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Otherwise subtitled: Dario is a fucking idiot
> 
> Note, medical literature does literally state "absence of spouse" as an official reason for why people stick things up their penis. I had a hilarious morning browsing the NCBI. The list of what people have put up there is amazing. THERE ARE TOYS SPECIALLY FOR THIS. GO BUY A SOUND. JESUS CHRIST.


	23. 23. Medicine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: alcohol, drinking, intoxication, using alcohol as an emotional crutch

Glain swooped and snatched the bottle and glass off the bar top.

“Alcohol isn’t medicine, Dario.”

He looked up at her, red-faced and bleary eyed. “Give it back!” His voice was slurred.

“No. I’d rather tip it over your idiotic head.”

His scowl deepened and his gaze sharpened, just a little. “This isn’t a dock bar. You’d get kicked out for that.”

“I’d drag you out with me. If you could stand, that is.”

“I can stand!” He scrambled upright, glaring.

“Good. Come on, then.”

Thankfully, he followed her, grumbling indistinctly. She messaged Khalila:

 _Don’t worry, chwaer, I’ve got him_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: I have literally no idea in the world what to write for this prompt  
> Me @ Me: Just write random Dario angst
> 
> Glain and Dario's relationship is so interesting. I love that in canon Glain gave him the shovel talk.


	24. Jess' Tie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: off-screen violence and death, knife, blood, injury

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: oh yes, let's do the nice obvious thing of something to do with Jess' recovery. First time he wears a tie again? Sounds good. First bookshop opening? Perfect.
> 
> And then THIS happened, and who knows, maybe you'll get a small fic out of it one day if you're lucky.

Jess’ lovely silk tie was a bloodstained mess, tight around Glain’s elbow.

“That won’t wash out,” he said, nonsensically.

There was a _knife_ in her _arm_.

Glain hit him with her free hand, then raised her voice at the guards now surrounding them. “Hear that? Brightwell will send you his bill, you laggardly, useless bastards.”

She gestured at the corpse on the floor. A would-be killer. Slower than Glain. “Ruined your tie _and_ your opening night, Jess.”

Jess rolled his eyes, and waved to attract a Medica.

“Is anyone else hurt?” The Medica eyed Jess. 

“No-one else,” Glain said proudly.


	25. Sleep

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: insomnia, hypersomnia, mentions of isolation, complicated father/son relationship

Eskander’s sleep habits have oscillated back and forth as time passed. 

Insomnia initially, as he paced his room and fought his polluted powers. 

Hypersomnia later, from hopeless apathy.

As the years passed, his circadian rhythm started to slide free of the twenty-four hour day. He barely noticed.

After the revolution, he’s unsurprised when insomnia greets him again. 

In a dark, hollow hour of one morning, he sends Christopher an article. 

_ You might find this interesting _ . 

There’s an immediate response; a scribbled  _ Thank you _ . 

Oh. He hugs himself. Of course Chrisopher doesn’t sleep either. 

The next night, Christopher recommends some poetry.

  
  



	26. Automata

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: surveillance state

One of the many items on Khalila's to-do list was to lessen the presence of automata throughout all Library territory. 

America was only too delighted to shed a few of its omnipresent statues. 

She wasn't expecting the negative reaction from Alexandria. 

She'd not really realised that Alexandria was full of people who had never fought for their lives against red-eyed, ravening machines. Never needed to learn how to turn them off or die. Never watched them kill and maim their loved ones. 

''If you do nothing wrong, you've got nothing to fear!'' 

''I feel safer with them on the streets!''

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I work in an industry that deals with security and facial recognition, maybe one day I'll make a fic subplot out of poor Khalila trying to do the supposedly impossible and undo a surveillance state.


	27. Language

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: mentions of religion, prejudice and sex. More can be added, let me know.

Unlike the rest of them, Khalila never used Arabic in conversation. 

“It’s rude to say things that other people can’t understand,” she’d explained as a postulant. “And besides, it helps Greek feel natural if you try to forget your alternative.” 

She’d given him an arch look that made it quite clear that her words should be interpreted as a veiled, “You’re rude and lazy with your language use.” 

He’d shrugged. Swearing was simply more satisfying in your own language. 

Much later, he was delighted to discover that if he performed well in bed, she would reward him with incoherent Arabic.

* * *

Morgan felt horribly rustic in Ptolemy House, for many reasons. 

In theory it was ridiculous; Oxford was more than a thousand years old, home to the first English-speaking university and rich in history. 

Except that history was about the only thing that the city under siege was rich in, and even that had been looted. 

Golden statues lined the streets, here.

Her Greek was clumsy compared to her fellow postulants. Her accent, laughably English. 

She could read as well as any of them! She just hadn’t had the chance to practise speaking before Oxford had turned insular in its desperation. 

* * *

“Why don’t you ever speak English?” Thomas asked Glain one evening in the common room, without Jess and Morgan.. 

Glain scowled at him. 

This had been bothering Thomas, so he kept trying. “It’s good for us all to practise the main langu-”

She cut him off. “If I ever get tested on it, I’ll be fine. I won’t dirty my mouth with it unnecessarily.”

Thomas pulled a face. “That’s extreme.”

“Take those welding goggles off occasionally, Schreiber. We are at  _ war _ . ” She closed her Blank with a thud. 

“You are on the same side!” Thomas sighed.

Glain scoffed. “Not yet.”

* * *

Jess hadn’t set foot inside a church for years, and as he knelt beside Nic and Dario he felt very out of place. 

He struggled to follow the language: the priest was speaking Ecclesiastical Latin with a strong southern Italian accent. Jess was used to English, or at a push the stubborn survival of Anglo-Latin pronunciation and spelling. 

Dario, dressed in resplendent red and black velvet, caught Jess’ eye and grinned irreverently.

Jess quickly lowered his eyes as Nic shifted on his knees. Mustn’t be distracting.

Nic had invited them, after all, to share Midnight Mass with him this Christmas. 

* * *

As a child, Dario had picked up sign language far more quickly than his parents. 

He and Ramon had had great fun insulting everyone around them. It was their secret - especially as his sister got older and they all picked up local Catalan sign language too. 

But then he went along with little Belita to a group for deaf children. Unthinkingly his hands moved in a sloppy, filthy sign. Belita giggled. 

An older girl slapped his hands!

“It’s not a game to us,” she said, with even more disdain towards Dario than his father had recently managed. “It’s our language.”


	28. Glain's Weapon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> !!Content warnings may contain spoilers!!
> 
> Content warnings: guns, weapons, friendly banter

_Jess joked that the only reason Glain had ever moved out of the barracks was for more weapon storage._

_Jess had a point._

Glain browsed the shelves of her gun room. She was twitchy today, head aching, smelling Greek smoke everywhere. She needed something to subsume herself into.

Her eyes alighted on the pneumatic air rifle. Perfect.

She lost herself for several hours in meticulously looking after the rifle. Disassembling it, piece by piece. Oiling, waxing, polishing, reassembling, until she stopped searching for lurking threats.

_Jess joked that Glain didn’t need lovers because she had weapons._

_Jess had a point._


	29. Scholar's Robe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warnings: none that I can think of, let me know if you want anything added.

“Scholar Schreiber,” said Wolfe, “This is your much-delayed official appointment as a gold band Research Scholar. Had you not already earned this as a postulant, I would certainly recommend it again for everything you have done for the Library.”

Thomas couldn’t quite meet the warm intensity in Wolfe’s gaze, so instead he looked aside to the Artifex Magnus, Greta, who held out a Scholar’s robe.

He had wanted this opportunity, once.

Rescued, he had wanted no part in the tyrant’s ranks.

But Khalila beamed at him over Wolfe’s shoulder. The new Archivist.

Everything would be different.

He accepted the robe.

* * *

A fortnight had passed since they had won, and still Dario hadn’t put on his Scholar’s robe.

It hung in his wardrobe, carefully steamed and pressed.

(It _had_ been on the back of the door, as if he might don it casually as he left his room, but it kept terrifying him with its ambiguous shape when he woke in the night.)

Occasionally, someone would mention its lack.

It was child’s play to tell them what they expected to hear:

“The Archivist’s fiancé deserves cloth-of-gold too.”

“I’m a peacock, not a stormcrow.”

“It needs an ermine trim, don’t you think?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thomaaaaaas <3 
> 
> I don't yet have any headcanons for why Dario doesn't wear his robe throughout S&P, but I am definitely very intrigued.


	30. A Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Final drabble of the month! (Except not actually a drabble. never mind.)
> 
> Ink and Bone, Ptolemy House-era Khalila and Dario are both still sore about losing to Jess at Go.

Dario was concentrating so hard on the board in front of him that it took almost an hour before he looked over at Khalila.

(That was a record. Usually every time she moved, she drew his eye.)

“Stop staring at me, Dario,” she said without looking up. How did she do that?

Even disdain just made her more attractive.

She turned a page. “You’re still staring. I _will_ go to my room if you can’t control yourself.”

Portero sniggered. Dario kicked his ankle hard enough to make him gasp.

“No need, no need!” he said airily. In the process of tearing his gaze away, he read the title of the book she was holding.

 _The Theory and Practice of Go_.

His heart leapt in his chest.

_We’re doing the same thing. Common interest! A talking point!_

Breathe, Dario.

“That’s worse than trying to learn chess from a book!” he said, in an accusatory tone that he absolutely hadn’t intended. Shit.

It caught her attention, regardless. She looked at him and raised one eyebrow.

He felt himself flushing all over. He loved that eyebrow raise. You’ve said something worthy of half of my attention, it seemed to say. Now earn the rest.

“And is your strategy proving particularly fruitful?” she asked. “Defeating weaker players again and again to boost your own ego?”

“Keep boosting it,” Glain said from the seat next to Khalila. “Your head might explode and we’d be free of you.”

Dario threw her an obscene gesture.

“Well,” he said to Khalila, “bearing in mind that the only people I consider better than me at this are you and Jess, it rather limits my pool of challenging partners.”

Khalila’s other eyebrow rose. Dario was going to gain a new fetish if he wasn’t careful.

“Is that a backhanded invitation for me to play against you?” She closed her book, but stayed in her seat.

Dario bit the inside of his cheek to avoid grinning. He stood and bowed elaborately towards the seat on the other side of the board.

Noticed Portero was still in it.

“ _Vai te foder_!”

“I speak Portuguese,” Khalila said in long-suffering tones. Glain laughed.

Dario shared Portero’s quick, wide-eyed look of regret, before he sharpened his gaze and glared until the Portuguese boy fucked off like he’d been told.

“I’m sure you speak it better than I do,” he assured Khalila.

“She does everything better than you do,” muttered someone on the other side of the common room.

“She does everything better than all of us, or haven’t you noticed?” Dario shot back.

Khalila sighed. “I’m going to my room.” She stood. Out of sheer habit, Dario eyed the way her body shifted and pressed against her dress as she moved. He would certainly go to hell when he died for any number of reasons; he might as well enjoy himself here and now. 

He just about defeated the urge to grab her and stop her, but he knew there was no mistaking the way his traitorous body swayed towards her. “Come on, beautiful desert flower,” he wheedled. “You won’t beat Jess with theory. Use me as practise.”

The sour taste in his mouth at the implication of being second-best to Jess warred with the way his entire body heated as he registered he’d just said “Use me,” out loud.

Oh, God. Redirect the blood flow, Dario.

As usual she stared at him like she could read his mind, and wasn’t very impressed. Presumably she wasn’t reading his mind, this time.

She’d probably slap him.

He wouldn’t complain.

“Losing to Jess _was_ annoying.” She moved to take the seat opposite him and he nearly fell back into his chair.

“Yes. It was. We’ll improve together!”

Instead of answering, she swept the stones into her lap, sorted them with neat, quick movements, and handed the black stones to Dario.

Handing him the advantage of the first move. Typically, that advantage averaged out to about six points by the end of a game.

She was confident she was going to beat him by more than six points, then.

His heart pounded so hard that he could feel it in his fingertips as he placed his first stone.

* * *

Several turns later, she snapped down a stone in retaliation, taking three of his. "You're not concentrating. That was a stupid move."

"It was," he admitted. "It's difficult to concentrate with you sat opposite me." It was the truth, but she scowled as if he'd said something insulting. 

"I watched you when you played Jess," she said. "You were focused. I don't want an empty win." Her voice almost sounded sulky. It was adorable. 

"Thank you for the reminder." Again, honesty. She compelled honesty out of him. "I promise I'll keep my eyes on the board. You deserve to fight for your victory."

She gave him a look of surprise, then turned the dimpled beauty of her full smile on him in response.

His heart quailed in his chest. Could he do this? Could he ignore the incomparable angel in front of him and find the state of flow that he had found against Jess?

Yes, he would. He must. Not just because she had asked, although that was more of a consideration than for anyone else he’d ever met, but because what he’d just said was right. She deserved his best performance.

He steeled himself and studied the board.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me: oh, I have other things I want to write, maybe I won't do a ficlet for this like i'd intended. It can be a drabble. 
> 
> Me: *IMMEDIATELY hits 157 words without even breathing*
> 
> welp. Ficlet it was. 900 words of Ink and Bone Dario being a lustful little shit. Poor Khalila. 
> 
> Note, there's a definite argument that at this point Dario is a better Go player than Khalila - Jess dispatches her without much trouble, whereas he takes a while to topple Dario's strategy. I kind of forgot about this, was thinking of their chess statuses, so, hey, see it as an extension of the way my Dario's subby impulses are glorifying how much better than him Khalila is, I guess?
> 
> I really enjoyed writing all this in April, and thank you very much to everyone who read, gave kudos and commented! I love you all!


End file.
